still living on Italian soil...ma la vita diversa
November 21st 2005 My shoes echo in the alleys, clicks of my heels follow me home.
The mornings are often heavy with a thick fog, a huge, dense fog that has fallen upon the city, rolled in by the etched deities that blow the directional winds on the ancient maps.
There are no bird songs, but caws and screeches by seagulls and other water birds, even at times during the night.
Once in a while, with the girls, I
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